


Gavin Gets the Siren Treatment

by NuclearMcDuck



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other, Siren, Some OCs for flavour - Freeform, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearMcDuck/pseuds/NuclearMcDuck
Summary: Gavin Reed's new partner, RK900, is worried for him. The man hasn't been himself for at least a week... And he's only getting worse by the day. What could cause this kind of breakdown in a human being? Many things, apparently. The human body is filled with potential pitfalls and malfunctions.If only things were so simple.What it ultimately proves to be is beyond medical science. Beyondscience. The only question that remains iscan it be stopped?Can Gavin Reed be saved?





	Gavin Gets the Siren Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a prompt on a Discord server about a siren... But I think what I ended up writing was a incubus? Maybe it's a half-siren, half-incubus, plus one-quarter Dutch from its mother's side, monster.
> 
> Uploading finally because I intend to continue it! Please do comment if you enjoy it (˶′◡‵˶)爻(♥ O ♥) I love validation :)

"Something's wrong with Gavin," He says.

"... You're only _just_ realising that? I thought that you were a _Detective_."

"No, I mean his _health_ ," Nines insists, looking worriedly at Gavin across the room.

Connor still doesn't seem interested, but he views Nines as akin to a well-meaning-but-inept protégé, given how hapless and endearing he had been when faced with social interaction in his early days. He may have been the so-called superior model, but his lack of experience in the world was telling when he had started here.

He had caught up months ago, but Connor still held a soft spot for him.

"Well, what would you have me do?"

Nines isn't sure. "My understanding is that Hank can be difficult when it comes to basic self-maintenance at times. How do you ensure that he meets all of his physiological needs? Perhaps I can start with your strategies."

Hank is sitting at the desk next to Connor. "I'm old, but I'm not deaf yet."

"Would you like to contribute to this discussion?" Nines asks, and he looks so hopeful that Hank doesn't even rouse at him for talking about him in such a demeaning way two feet away from him.

... So maybe he _hasn't_ caught up on all of the social graces that Connor has.

"... No," Hank gruffs, and turns back to his screen.

Nines suspects that he is still listening, but he chooses to ignore it.

"I know that you have personal issues with him," Nines states bluntly. "But I care about the man, and I would like help."

"Well, perhaps you need to rule out the possible causes of his... Ill health," Connor says. "Is he sleeping enough? To me, he simply looks tired. Sallow skin, bags under the eyes, blinking at a higher-than-average number of times per minute, yawning..."

"How would I know how well he's sleeping?" Nines interjects.

Connor gives him a barely-there shrug, a sure sign of his indifference towards Nines' partner. "Ask him?"

"Okay," Nines nods, carefully cataloguing the suggestion.

"Then I suppose other possibilities, such as a resurfacing drug habit, the onset of some disease, a nutritional deficiency, a parasite such as a tapeworm or..."

Connor comes up with an extensive list that Nines, in his panic, had not been able to conceive.

"Thank you, your insight has been invaluable," Nines said when Connor was done.

"Let me know how your questioning goes," Connor says, looking amused for reasons that Nines can't fathom.

As he walks back to his desk, his advanced audio receptors can't help but pick up Hank's whispered words to Connor, "Jesus, I'd love to be a fly on the wall for _that_ conversation."

 

* * *

 

 

 Gavin goes home pretty fucking pissed off that night.

His partner kept asking him all of these personal questions, non-stop, even when they were supposed to be investigating a scene. He didn't even wait until other people weren't in earshot to ask things like, "How often have you urinated over the last twenty-four hours, and what colour was it?" And, "Have you had unsafe sex with anyone, especially someone who you know to be an IV drug user?"

Some of the questions were just bizarre, like, "Have you been checked by a General Practitioner in the last twelve months? In particular, you are probably due for a prostate exam; you might think that you are too young, but one can never be too careful."

He did manage to stop himself from snarking back with, " _Yeah, I got Lieutenant Anderson to examine my prostate, actually, and it's working_ fine," But just barely.

It's like Nines had made it his job to humiliate him. Then he'd thrown salt on the wound, saying it was because the detective looked so _unwell_ and _sub-par relative to his usual appearance_ when Gavin had called him out on it.

But that was something that he could ignore tonight, because at precisely ten PM, he got the knock at the door that he'd been anxiously awaiting all afternoon.

"You ignored me again today," He says when he answers the door, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at Hank. Sure, he might want this, but he's also pissed that he's shunted off to the side outside of their trysts.

It's not like he wants people to know, but Hank acts like there's nothing at all between them.

Hank ignores his display, stepping over the threshold and grabbing Gavin's upper arms, pulling him into a rough kiss.

Gavin always succumbs to the feeling of peace that comes over him when Hank touches him like this, and tonight is no exception. He moans into Hank's mouth, tilting his head slightly to make it easier, running his hands up Hank's arms and hooking them over his shoulders.

When the kiss breaks, Hank breathes heavily in that sultry, deep voice, "Bedroom. Now."

Hank fucks him like the world is ending tomorrow, and this is his last chance to experience sex. It's so intense, and Gavin feels... Light headed, like it's a dream, but it's not, it's so real, like, _too_ real... As though he's dropped a tab of acid and everything is just _more_.

He's never felt like this with anyone before.

He wonders if this is what love is.

When it's over, just like every other time Hank has appeared in his doorway, Gavin collapses, exhausted down to his very bones. He can feel Hank's cum dripping out of him, can hear Hank get up and leave the room. He's powerless to move, though. Must be because he's been fucked senseless. He can't even keep his eyes open anymore. He-

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes slowly, feeling groggy like he's been on a multiple-day bender, and heavy, like his limbs are made of lead.

The sun is filtering through his window, strangely bright considering he needs to be at work by-

He startles, adrenaline waking him enough to have him bolting upright, tangling himself in his sheets. The sudden movement has him seeing stars, and he has to wait for his head to stop throbbing and his vision to clear up before he can see his phone on the bedside table.

Twelve PM. Five missed alarms. Fourteen missed calls.

His heart leaps into his throat while his stomach sinks, and all he can thinks is, _how the fuck did I sleep through all of that?!_

He rushes through throwing on clothes, though his movements are jerky and uncoordinated, like he's gone too long without eating. Oh, well, it's too late for breakfast. He grabs two pieces of bread out of the pantry, shoving them in his mouth and racing for his car.

He makes it to the precinct by twelve-thirty-two. Nines is standing at his desk, looking frantic.

His partner does a legit double-take when he sees Gavin power walking towards his desk, rushing over to his side.

"Detective, where have you been? Are you alright? You look worse than yesterday, are you-"

Gavin resists the urge to punch him (and only partly because his arms still feel heavy). Instead, he snaps, "Get me a coffee," And takes a seat at his desk like nothing happened.

Nines fusses over him the entire day, annoying him by saying things like, "You're lucky that Captain Fowler is not in the office today," and, "You still haven't answered any of the questions I asked you yesterday."

Gavin seethes. He's probably just losing a little sleep with the crazy sex he and Anderson are having. He's not sure why the old man is holding up so damn well when he presumably doesn't sleep until he gets home afterwards. He's even been coming to work on time these days, and Gavin doesn't know why he hasn't shown any sign of exhaustion after their encounters, when Gavin is feeling faint every time he stands up too fast.

It doesn't matter, though, because they have a case to investigate.

 

* * *

 

 

They have two witnesses to interview today with regard to a murder that happened overnight - or, _alleged_ murder. It sounds to Gavin like they were high, and the guy just died of natural causes. Nines' prognosis was heart attack as cause of death, and Gavin is sure that - just like every other time - the autopsy report will corroborate Nines' initial analysis.

But these iced-up junkies still insist that their friend was murdered by a monster that steals faces.

"He was getting sicker and sicker for weeks," The first witness, Janice, explains.

She's a heavy-set girl, maybe thirty, olive skin just a shade darker than Gavin's and brown eyes that rival Connor's for "most puppy-like"

"Would the Red Ice found at the scene have anything to do with that?" Gavin pressed, finding himself annoyed by the harsh light of the room. "Do you know how much he was using?"

"I swear," She pleaded, eyes watering. "It was the first time any of us had touched it! We'd never done it before! He just wanted to try it, because he was feeling so bad, and it's this stimulant, and he wanted to feel _good_ again..."

She hung her head in her arms, sobbing.

Gavin sighed heavily. Junkies always wanted to say they'd never done it before, or it was their first time. Sure, there were no tell-tale marks on her or her friends' arms to indicate chronic drug use, but maybe they injected somewhere else? It wasn't like it was impossible to hide it.

"I swear," Janice said, shaking slightly, raising her reddening eyes to meet Gavin's. "It was that _thing_ that killed him."

"Right," He said, nodding. "Want to tell me about that thing? For the statement."

Janice looked at the two-way mirror, swallowing, before looking back to Gavin. "It looked _just like_ me," She whispered. "But it wasn't me. She... It... I thought I was hallucinating."

 _I'd bet money that you were_ , Gavin thought snidely.

"It... It was... On top of him, like-" She paused, turning her head away. "They were having sex."

"So, you saw a woman who looked like you having sex with Alex after you'd all taken Red Ice," Gavin repeated, not bothering to hide his derision.

Janice's eyes hardened. "It was real!" She insisted, hands curling into fists. "It.... It kissed him, and it was like... His face went pale, then his whole body. I didn't know what to do, and neither did Taylor. We just watched as she stood up and walked away, naked, like nothing had happened. We didn't even know where she'd come from. And then we went over to Alex, and he was... Was just lying their with his eyes wide open, and... And he looked grey all over, and he wasn't breathing!"

She started to hyperventilate, and Gavin looked at the mirror himself, shaking his head. It seemed obvious to him that they had hallucinated this crap when their friend went into cardiac arrest as a result of chronic Red Ice usage. It was a pretty common cause of death in these kinds of cases.

"Are you aware that prolonged usage of Red Ice results in delirium, hallucinations, and in some individuals, cardiac arrest?" He asked.

Janice glared at him, before her face morphed into... Something else. Something like shock.

"... You look like he did," She said quietly, so quietly that Gavin could barely hear her.

"Come again?" He asked, disinterested in the entire conversation. They knew what happened. This wasn't a homicide, so it wasn't even his department. He oughta get out of here before he was roped into doing someone else's paperwork-

"You _look like he did_ ," She said, louder.

He rolled his eyes openly at that. "Right. I don't use, buddy. This interview is over." He stood to leave.

Janice leapt at him, grabbing his sleeve, and he tried to pull his sleeve back, but she was _strong_ \- He could hear movement as the other officers scrambled to assist. He reached for his gun-

"Your eyes - they're dead, like _his_ were," She said, eyes wide and fearful. "Your skin is so grey, and... It's just like _him_!"

The other officers - Nines, Chris, and Tina - come in and wrestle her down, handcuff her, and escort her out. Gavin's hand is still on his weapon, but he hadn't drawn it. He runs a hand down his face, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn't look that bad, does he?

" _She's coming for you!_ " He hears her scream from outside, still hysterically calling out to him.

 _Jesus_ , he hates junkies.

 

* * *

 

 

There's something about this case that just doesn't add up.

No matter how Nines tries, he can't figure it out.

The throuple, so-called for their polyamorous relationship, rented a modest apartment together in a building with camera surveillance.

Three hours before the time of death, the three enter their building together. They are laughing, in good spirits, and they take the elevator up to their floor. Up until the time of death, none of them come down, either through the elevator, or through the stairs, the stairwell exit being visible from the lobby camera.

Twenty minutes before the time of death, a woman who looks identical to Janice walks up to the elevator and presses the call button. She is wearing different clothes to Janice - more tightly fitted, figure-hugging.

The mysterious Janice look-alike enters the elevator. She presses a button, then, as the doors close, looks directly into the security camera.

Nines is an android; a being of logic, unlike his superstitious human counterparts. So why can't he explain the sudden, intense feeling that he gets, that this woman is looking at _him?_

... As though she can _see_ , through time and space, down the camera lens to where he's sitting in, her unnaturally dark eyes boring into him with dark promise.

Then the doors close, and she disappears.

For thirty minutes, nothing of note happens, until the ambulance arrives, paramedics rushing in.

Ten minutes later, police arrive on the scene.

Janice and Taylor are escorted out by police. He knows that the body was transferred by forensics later, after the crime scene was investigated.

He never sees the Janice look-alike leave.

 

* * *

 

 

Hank comes again that night.

Gavin has collapsed on his bed, he doesn't even answer his door. Hank just somehow shows up in his room at ten PM on the dot.

"... Did I give you a key?" He asks weakly as Hank looms over him, barely visible in the street light that filters through his fifth-floor window. "Did the doorman let you in?"

"Don't need one," Hank says gruffly. It's all he says, before he's over Gavin, in him, and Gavin barely even reciprocates tonight, he's so tired.

Hank leaves the room, completely nude. Gavin wonders, idly, where he left his clothes, before he loses himself to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nines knocks on the door again, louder this time.

Gavin hadn't answered any of the phone calls he'd sent, nor responded to the messages, and he was late _again_.

Nines had taken it upon himself to come and retrieve the man, flashing his badge at the door android to be allowed up to the fifth floor.

Gavin isn't answering the door.

Nines calls Gavin again, his LED flashing as the call connects and starts ringing. He continues to knock on the door. Is he wrong in his assumption that Gavin is at home? Perhaps he had a late night and "crashed" at a friend's house; or, more likely, he is on his way to work right-

Nines hears Gavin's phone ring from inside the apartment.

Irrational fear floods him, which makes his idea to break down the door seem less stupid than it is.

It's child's play to punch a hole through it and reach through to unlatch it, and he will pay to have the damage repaired himself - the important thing is that Gavin is alright, because-

Well, because he inspires strong feelings in the RK900 unit.

He follows the sound of the phone to the bedroom, and there he is, wrapped in sheets and looking utterly dead to the world. Thankfully, however, his scanners tell him that he is breathing, and his heart is beating.

"Detective Reed?" Nines calls out, voice soft as though afraid of waking him. He realises how stupid that is, given that his task is to _wake_ _him_ and bring him in to work.

Reed doesn't stir, so Nines inches closer, keeping his scanners trained on Reed's form. He looks so small, curled up under the covers like this.

"Detective Reed?" He repeats, louder. Still, nothing.

He reaches the head of the bed and reaches out to pull the sheet down.

Gavin is deathly pale, sweating bullets and worryingly cold.

Nines is instantly in full-on anxiety mode.

"Detective!" He shouts urgently, grabbing his shoulder and roughly shaking him until Gavin's eyes flutter open, bleary and red.

Gavin tries to speak, but vomits instead, yellow bile.

Nines turns him so that he doesn't choke on it, holding Gavin in a sitting position and leaning him over the bed to vomit on a paper bag on the floor. It doesn't take him long to finish being sick, spitting the last of the foul substance from his mouth while Nines watches.

"You are ill," Nines states.

"Nah," Gavin chokes.

Nines is tempted to shake him again, but refrains.

"I am taking you to a hospital immediately," He says in an authoritative tone, which seems to amuse Gavin.

"Make me," He scoffs, trying to pull out of Nines' grasp, though proves too weak to do so.

"If you insist," Nines says, lifting him bodily to-

It's when he pulls Gavin out from under the sheet that he sees the... Evidence. Evidence of his activities last night.

He is naked, covered in bruises with large hand-prints, and he is leaking semen from his-

"Oh," Nines says, momentarily unable to hide his disappointment.

Gavin takes advantage of his lapse, pulling away and wrapping the sheet back around himself. "Hey!" He says defensively. "Do you mind?"

"... You were with someone last night," Nines says, a simple statement of fact.

Gavin blanches. "What's it to you?"

What, indeed.

"... Nothing. Were you drinking last night?" That might be the simple explanation; Gavin was drunk and had a one-night stand. Perhaps he went to a club and stayed out until an in-advisably late hour. It would explain his sorry state, including the vomiting.

"Get out," Gavin says lieu of answering. "Lemme get dressed. Jesus."

Nines leaves the room, pump aching.

Perhaps it was his own fault for allowing himself to become attached to Gavin Reed.

He waits in the living room for Gavin to be done getting ready.

He looks at his shoes, tainted by Gavin Reed's vomit. He does so much for this man. How hard can it be to see how deeply he cares? Gavin has always been standoffish - even hostile, at the very beginning - but it feels almost like he's... Drifting further away from Nines. He had really thought that they were becoming closer, and to see it all slip through his fingers, when it seemed as though nothing had changed...

But something _had_ changed. Gavin started appearing unwell.

 _You look like he did_. The words echo in Nines' mind. Was he using Red Ice, like the unfortunate victim of their last case? While he was here, he might as well check for clues.

The living room looked normal, if dusty. Gavin Reed was something of a minimalist, though he preferred the term _pragmatist_. His living room held one low couch which Nines was currently sitting on, a small coffee table with a succulent on it, a large television on the wall, and a small bookshelf with one or two physical books and an array of trinkets.

Upon closer inspection, the books were real, not hiding places for narcotics. The kitchen was similar, though messier - as though Gavin had stopped cleaning up after himself. The dishwasher overflowed with filthy dishes, and the counter had multiple aging stains. The cupboards, however, were free of all traces of Red Ice.

The only other rooms were Reed's bedroom and ensuite, though there was a cupboard with a washing machine and dryer inside. An investigation into this cupboard, however, reveals only a washing machine full of clothes washed several days ago, some laundry powder, and fabric softener.

He puts the clothes on a new wash cycle, along with a generous dose of laundry powder. Perhaps he could come over after their shift and assist the Detective, who was clearly struggling with household tasks. _Uncharacteristically_ struggling.

Was this another symptom of Gavin's declining health?

He closes the laundry cupboard, heading back to the living room. Could it be that Gavin was simply shirking his most basic household chores and allowing his work to suffer because he was partying too hard? It didn't fit the profile that Nines had amassed of the man's typical behaviours. He was fastidious and exact to the point of being insufferable, and he was _deeply_ ambitious.

Nines considers the possibility that his initial theory that Gavin had been hung over is wrong.

A glance at his sick-covered shoes provides him with the opportunity to test his theory.

One sample later, and it is clear that Gavin had _not_ ingested any alcohol the night before.

"What is going on?" He mutters aloud, staring at his shoes.

"... That's what _I_ should be asking."

Nines looks up to see Gavin standing in the doorway, nose curled in disgust. He is still noticeably pale, eyes sunken and sclera an irritated red. His clothes are not clean, clearly pulled from the dirty pile in his room, still crumpled and creased from their exile on the floor.

"You look unwell," Nines states, concern rising.

"You would, too, if you saw your partner lick vomit from his shoe," Gavin sneers, though he turns paler, looking ready to retch.

"I was testing a theory," He explains, standing to leave. "Shall we go to the precinct?" He eyes the way that Gavin sways when his eyes try to follow Nines' movement. "... Or should I take you to the hospital?" He says, eyes narrowing as his scanners pick up every detail of Gavin's physical state.

Gavin doesn't end up letting Nines drag him to a medical professional, but he is sure that if he can just take a sample of the man's blood (and as many other fluids as possible, ideally) that he himself would be able to present some preliminary diagnosis. As for right now, however, he must convince Gavin that he is not fit to drive.

"Your reaction times are too slow," Nines explains after easily pickpocketing the man's keys from him.

Gavin scowls and curses at him, but doesn't put up much of a fight beyond that. That, in and of itself, is concerning. Gavin rarely backs down from a fight that he knows he could win.

What could have taken the fight from him like this?

That's what is playing through Nines' mind as he parks Gavin's car in the precinct parking lot, the man himself glowering in the passenger seat. The ride had passed in silence, given the recalcitrance that Nines had met when he'd attempted to question or converse with the Detective.

No matter. They were here now, and they would have a chance to talk after their shift, when Nines intended to help Gavin with his chores.

Gavin Reed was a study in contrasts. On the one hand, he was an ambitious and competitive man, in all fields of his life. At work, he strove to have the most cases solved, the highest arrest record, and he was able to due to his dedication and intellect. However, he also had tendencies such as narcissism, overconfidence, and a tendency to bore easily, which could often result in the Detective checking his phone rather than his reports or cases. It was a habit that Nines had challenged on occasion, though recently he had started to partake as his deviancy progressed; Reed had introduced him to games on a tablet that Reed had bought him for Christmas that Nines would otherwise never have considered for himself. Despite the progress that Nines had made with combating Detective Reed's unprofessional habits, there were still days when Reed would put his feet up on his desk and play some mindless flash game until he was forced to do something more productive.

He never just sat at his desk, sagging in his chair like a rotting fruit, holding his head up with one hand and still not managing to read a single word in front of him.

"Have you read through the case file yet, Detective?" Nines gently inquired, already knowing that the man had not.

"Fuck off," Reed groaned, letting his eyes slip closed. "I'm thinking."

He had never seen Gavin so listless.

He made him another coffee, knowing that he would have to take Gavin to the scene without him having read the case file beforehand. Nines could cover for him, it wouldn't be detrimental to his career. Not unless it kept happening.

He desperately wanted to know what it was that was causing Gavin's poor performance. What if it was life-threatening? What if it was time sensitive? What if Nines was sitting here and worrying, while Gavin was _dying_ -

No, he couldn't let the panic stop him from focusing. He needed to think; what had he ruled out so far? He had searched Gavin's apartment for Red Ice, but there was every possibility that he was taking from the evidence room here in the precinct, rather than using at home. He had the clearance, and often worked on cases involving the substance. He would have to keep an eye out for suspicious behaviour.

He also wanted to take samples from Gavin to analyse. He would then be able to tell if his iron was low, or if his white blood cell count was abnormal.

And after this morning's rude awakening, he knew that Gavin had unprotected sex with people who may or may not be strangers to him.

He tried not to think too hard on the implications of how that may or may not impact the Detective's relationship with Nines himself. It was not as though he had been forward in his affections, and it wasn't fair to want Gavin to avoid sexual activity just because his partner had... Had a _crush_ on him. Somehow, knowing this didn't ease the sting of knowing that Gavin was with someone else. What if it _wasn't_ a one-night stand? What if it was serious? It hurt too much to think about, so Nines cut off that line of thinking, and partitioned the memory so that it wouldn't distract him.

"Have you read through the case file yet, Detective?" Nines asked in a monotone.

"Let's just go already," Gavin said sourly, pushing himself up from his desk and heading for the door.

Nines scrambled to follow him.

 

* * *

 

 

Nines had covered for him at the scene. He had clearly been trying to focus and pay attention, but his body simply refused; his eyes hardly seemed to focus, and he would list to one side frequently. He had stumbled several times, and Nines had had to grab his arm to stop him tumbling over and messing up the scene. He knew that something was wrong, but his attempts to simply _ask_ what the problem was had met enough resistance that he knew he was going to need another approach.

"Are you sure that I can't take you to a hospital?" Nines pressed as he helped Gavin into the passenger seat of his car.

Gavin angrily waved his hands away, determined to get in unassisted. "Nah, I'm fine - just tired, is all," He insisted, collapsing in the seat and fumbling for the belt.

This was another approach that was proving fruitless. Gavin refused to even admit that there _was_ a problem, let alone seek medical advice.

Nines drove them back to the precinct, Gavin dozing while Nines' thoughts were consumed by pre-constructions of every possibility of what was happening to his partner. He needed to do something. He needed to analyse him.

... He needed to do it without Gavin finding out.

 

* * *

 

 

For lunch, Gavin has a nap. He doesn't bother getting up from his desk, just crosses his arms and lays his head face down in them.

Nines will go and get him something healthy, but first he needs to talk to Connor.

Connor audibly sighs as he sees Nines approach.

"Hello," He says, sounding resigned.

"Hello," Nines responds.

"I assume that this is about Detective Reed?" Connor says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Betcha ten bucks it is," Hank says from the next terminal.

"I won't take that bet," Connor says dryly. "Nines, have you considered that Detective Reed will not appreciate the lengths that you are going to for him?"

Nines' eyebrows draw together, admonishing. "It's not about whether he appreciates it. It's about his health and wellbeing," He says sternly.

Connor cranes his neck around Nines, glancing at Gavin, then turns his gaze back to Nines. "Well, I've diagnosed him," He says, utterly deadpan.

Nines' pump skips a beat. "You - with what? What does he have?" He asks urgently.

"Sleepy bitch disease."

Hank barks a laugh. Nines crosses his arms.

"This is serious," He says coldly.

"I'm _being_ serious," Connor retorts. "It's incurable, too - even if he stops being sleepy, he'll always be a-"

Nines slams his hands down on Connor's desk, looming over his predecessor. "If you didn't want to help," He spits, "You could have just said it."

He's about to turn around to storm back to his desk and leave a stunned Connor behind, when Hank's voice draws both their attention.

"Why don't you just ask me?" Hank wheels his chair from behind his terminal to look at them. Nines doesn't bother telling him that he could simply power off the terminal as it is transparent when not in use, because he is desperate for help.

"I've known the guy for longer than you two have been alive - combined. What happened to age is wisdom, and all that crap?" He feigns offence.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" He is practically _begging_ for help at this point. "Do you know what I should do? Is it dangerous? Has he done this before? Has-"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, kid!" Hank holds up his palms as though calming a spooked horse. "Just tell me what's been going on, and I'll give you my theory. Alright?"

Nines sighs heavily, moving around to sit on Lieutenant Anderson's desk. The Lieutenant looks surprised at the action, but says nothing. From the next desk, he hears Connor's small voice say, "I was only joking."

Nines explains Gavin's sorry state over the last two weeks. "Each day, he seems to get a little worse, though over the last few days, it has been the effects have been increasing exponentially." He indicated Gavin, face-down on his desk and dead to the world.

"Yeah, he sure does look like shit," Hank agreed.

Connor added a whispered, "Seconded."

Nines chose to be the bigger android and let it slide.

"Has Gavin done this before?" He asked, letting the desperation bleed into his voice; he knew for a fact that the Lieutenant's gruff exterior hid a kind and sensitive man, and his social relations program informed him that allowing his vulnerability to show would drastically increase the likelihood that he would go to considerable lengths to see this resolved. He _may_ have borrowed the puppy eyes that he learned from Connor, as well.

"... No, actually. He's had a bender or two, but nothing that's lasted as long as what you've told me," Hank said, scratching at his beard. "He was moping for a week or so after a bad breakup about three years ago - been with the guy for at least a year, they'd been talking about moving in together... Has he been seeing anyone? 'Cause that might be it."

... Oh. "He... He has been with someone. At least one person. Sexually. I... I don't know if it is part of a long-term relationship, or just a one-off," He kept his eyes on the floor as he said it.

Connor interjected with, "Was it you? Have you had a one-night stand, and are worried that Detective Reed regrets it?"

Hank's jaw dropped as he stared at Connor, but all Nines was able to focus on was the expanding tightness in his chest.

"No," He said, sombre. "It wasn't me."

"Oh," Connor looked flustered, which he often did when a theory of his proved incorrect. "I... Apologise."

"It doesn't matter to me," Nines lied. "What matters is that he is unwell. Is it uncharacteristic for him to have unprotected sex?"

Hank let his head fall back so that he was staring at the ceiling, rubbing at his temples. "Shoulda stayed outta this..." He muttered.

"Do you know the answer, or not?" Nines demanded. It was hard to deny that he was a little offended on Gavin's behalf. "His condition is worsening by the day."

Hank, thankfully, ceased his dramatics and instead leant forward in his chair to clap a large hand on Nines' shoulder. "I really think that a doctor-"

Nines brushed the hand away angrily, frustration spilling over. "He refuses medical help. Even though he can barely function now, he will not allow me to book any appointments for him. I'm..." He paused, analysing the emotion that constricted his chest and filled his processor with white noise. "... I'm scared for him."

There was a long silence between the three of them. Nines had nothing left to say, and it seemed his mentor and his supervisor had nothing left to say on the matter. He might as well go back to his desk, and -

"I'll talk to him," Hank said with a tone of finality. "He'll have a hard time hiding anything from me. I've known him since he was fresh outta the academy."

Nines felt the tightness around his chest lighten, even so slightly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

As he trudged away, already ordering tofu paper rolls from the Banh Mi shop two blocks away in his head, he listened to Connor say, "Can I be a fly on the wall in _that_ conversation?"

"I heard that," He said loudly, and his audio processors picked up the squeak of Connor's chair as he jumped.


End file.
